


the beginning

by jehans



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-08
Updated: 2013-02-08
Packaged: 2017-11-28 14:38:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/675512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jehans/pseuds/jehans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Courfeyrac has a cold, Jehan has a crush, and it's time for something to finally begin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"I amb find."

"Pretty sure you're not, Courf," Jehan argued, trying to balance the phone between his ear and his shoulder so he could use both hands to lift the pot off the stove. "You're adding Ds and Bs to words that shouldn't have Ds and Bs. That is not a sign of being fine."

"But Jehand, I hab work to do."

"Okay," Jehan said unmovingly, grabbing at the phone right before it slipped from his ear.

"Endjolras will be mad."

"No he won't, you're sick. You know he'll understand."

There was a silence on the other end of the line because  _of course_  Enjolras would understand and  _of course_  Courfeyrac knew that.

"I'll be bored," Courfeyrac admitted after a pause.

Ah. The truth at last. Jehan smiled, capping the tupperware he'd been filling. "I'm coming over."

"You are?!"

Jehan blushed. He could practically hear Courfeyrac's face lighting up.

"Fifteen minutes," he mumbled. "Make sure your door is unlocked, I'll be carrying things."

-

Jehan actually had a key to Courfeyrac's apartment. Courf had said it was "for emergencies" when he'd given it to him, but "emergencies" for them usually meant 2am Downton Abbey marathons while Jehan sat on the floor, leaning back against the couch with a huge bowl of popcorn in his lap, and Courfeyrac stretched out on the couch behind him, playing with Jehan's hair (and Jehan tried to pretend the feeling of Courfeyrac's fingers in his hair didn't make him wonder about how those fingers would feel on other parts of his body).

The truth was, Jehan had been desperately, achingly in love with Courfeyrac for ages now, and there was a tiny, irritatingly persistent voice in his head that kept whispering that Courf might feel something for him, too.

He wasn't stupid. He was fully aware that Courfeyrac hadn't given a key to everyone in their friendship group. Just Enjolras -- which made sense because he was  _Enjolras_  -- and Jehan.

And Enjolras didn't come over at 2am to watch Downton Abbey.

Jehan had also noticed the way Courfeyrac would glance over at  _him_  when he'd made a joke he thought was funny, or when someone said something that Courfeyrac wanted to turn into an innuendo. He'd noticed how Courfeyrac's smile would grow when Jehan entered a room, how his eyes would glaze when Jehan was close enough to smell, how his hand would linger when he touched Jehan amiably on the shoulder.

He'd tried to tell himself that none of it meant anything, that this was all wishful thinking, but Jehan's sense of hope was annoyingly strong.

At any rate, today he couldn't use his key because he'd made way too much soup for his sickly love and it took both of his hands to be able to carry it to his apartment.

He got the unlocked door open mostly with his elbow and was greeted by a weak shout from the bedroom.

"JEHAND! I'mb ind here!"

Jehan hefted the large tupperware onto the counter between the kitchen and the entryway and made a beeline for the bedroom. Courfeyrac was splayed out on the bed, his head near the foot, his comforter a mess under him. He was wearing plaid pajama pants, a rumbled button-down, and a bow tie. He reached out toward Jehan with one arm as soon as he saw him.

"Mby hero," he sighed, smiling.

Jehan surpressed a shiver at the look in Courfeyrac's eyes and couldn't help but smile back. He leaned against the doorframe.

"Why are you wearing a bow tie?" he giggled.

Courf let out a sort of groan and flopped back onto the bed. "I was trying to change into mby pajabas," he explained mournfully. "But then I god dizzy. Help mbe?"

Jehan's heart thumped painfully. He was possessed with the sudden desire to rip Courfeyrac's bow tie, along with his shirt and pajama pants and everything else, right off of his body. To sear burning kisses into his skin.

Instead, he choked out, "I brought soup."

Courfeyrac looked at him, surprised. "Did you mbake it?" he asked.

Jehan nodded, flushing a little.

"You mbade mbe soub?"

A grin and another nod. Courfeyrac looked, for once, speechless.

"I'll go get some," Jehan said softly. "You get in bed properly, okay?"

He ducked out of the room then, trying to pretend his face wasn't turning pinker by the second, that he wasn't using the act of scooping soup into a bowl as an excuse to calm his racing heart, that he wasn't imagining what sort of things that  _stare_  Courfeyrac had given him could mean.

Of course when he got back to the bedroom, Courf was half undressed and pulling a tshirt on over his head, his button-down and bow tie discarded on the floor, and Jehan nearly dropped the bowl of soup he'd just prepared at the sight of the small of Courfeyrac's back, the dimples above his ass. He managed to merely spill some of the soup over his hands instead.

Courfeyrac glanced back at him and he sat back on the bed and grinned. "You really did mbake me soub," he said softly, giving Jehan that look again.

Jehan hurried forward and placed the bowl carefully on the bedside table as Courfeyrac slipped under the covers.

"Do you want me to go get your Downton DVDs?" Jehan asked in what he hoped was a light tone.

Courfeyrac shook his head. "That's okay, we can just watch whadever's on TV," he said. Then, when Jehan didn't move from his place hovering near the bedside table, he frowned quizzically at him. "Whad are you doing? Come sid with mbe."

Why was his heart pounding again like this? They'd watched TV together a hundred times, why was this any different? Jehan felt lost, like he was on the edge of some precipice he couldn't see. But Courfeyrac was looking at him with soft eyes and Courfeyrac would never let him fall. He sat on the edge of the bed and Courfeyrac sighed and beckoned to him.

"Come  _on_ , Jehand," he moaned impatiently, "ged in bed."

So Jehan climbed in under the covers too, and shivered for real this time as his hip bumped against Courfeyrac's. Somehow -- and Jehan couldn't quite work out  _how --_  Courfeyrac managed to position himself under Jehan's arm so they were. . .cuddling.

It was really nice.

Courfeyrac shifted, tucking himself further into Jehan's body. Experimentally, Jehan started to slowly brush his fingers up and down Courfeyrac's arm.

Courf practically purred in response.

Encouraged, Jehan's hand dragged up Courfeyrac's arm and slowly slipped into his hair, tangling there in his curls.

And then Courfeyrac turned his head and pressed a kiss to the soft skin on the inside of Jehan's wrist, and Jehan froze. He couldn't breathe.

"Thank you for the soub," Courfeyrac murmured against Jehan's wrist and Jehan may have let out a little squeak in answer.

Turning back to Jehan, Courfeyrac smiled dazzlingly at him. And then Jehan knew. As Courfeyrac settled further into him, nuzzling him a little as he went and reaching for the remote to turn on the television, Jehan knew: this was the start of their love story. Here, in Courfeyrac's bed amid the smell of homemade soup and Courfeyrac's added Ds and Bs. They were going to have a fairy tale love, and this was the start.

Suddenly, Jehan just knew.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A grand gesture doesn't work out quite the way it ought to.

Courfeyrac waited until he wasn't sick anymore before he made his grand gesture. He wanted this to be right -- to be  _perfect_  -- and there was no way he was going to reach perfection while snot was dripping out of his nose.

The trouble was, Courfeyrac wasn't sure how to reach Jehan levels of perfection at all.

Jehan was just so. . .good. He was so ridiculously  _good_  that Courfeyrac, king of the grand gesture, found himself completely stumped as to how he could show someone this good how dearly he was loved.

Because Courfeyrac loved Jehan dearly. It had snuck up on him, slowly building from the comforting warmth of easy friendship to a fire and passion he could no longer ignore. He was deeply in love with the little poet, and he had been for well into a year now. But he'd been keeping it inside himself and he was almost ready to let it all out.

If only he could figure out  _how_.

Which is how he found himself lying on Combeferre's floor at almost midnight while Combeferre himself patiently listened to him moan about his love life.

"But I thought you were sure he likes you too?" Combeferre asked again and Courfeyrac rolled his eyes.

"I  _am_  sure," he sighed. "But what if he says no?"

Courfeyrac  _was_  sure, he was. In fact, he'd been testng. For a few weeks now, actually. He'd observed how Jehan would giggle nervously when Courfeyrac touched him, how he'd smile like the sun when Courfeyrac would share a private joke with him, how he'd flush bright scarlet when Courfeyrac would whisper in his ear. And then while he'd been sick, Jehan had come over every day and held him, and he'd smiled when Courf had kissed his wrist.

He was sure. That didn't stop him being nervous.

"If he likes you too," Combeferre was saying calmly as he raised his cocoa to his lips, "Then there's no reason for him to say no."

"I'm kind of a lot to handle," Courfeyrac said softly, averting his gaze away from his friend.

Combeferre regarded him with a kind of paternal gentleness. "So is he," he said. "And neither of you are likely to run from a challenge if it means getting what you want." He waited until a little of the fear relaxed out of Courfeyrac's face before asking, "So what are you going to do?"

Courfeyrac let out a wail and flopped back on the ground. "I DON'T KNOW!"

His melancholy was interrupted as his phone rang and Taylor Swift’s voice belting out “You Belong With Me” piped into the room. Combeferre smirked at him as he fumbled for the phone.

"Subtle."

"Shut up," Courfeyrac snapped. Then: "Oh god, it's him."

"Of course it's him, that's your ringtone for him."

"'Ferre, what do I do?" Courfeyrac was panicking. Combeferre smiled.

"Just relax," he said gently. "You guys call each other all the time, this is no different."

"But I love him," Courfeyrac sputtered. "And I'm about to tell him. That changes everything."

Endlessly patient, Combeferre reached out and touched Courfeyrac's shoulder. "You love him," he said. "So calm down and answer his call."

So Courfeyrac answered. "Jehan, my dear!" he cried, hoping he sounded jovial. "What can I do for you?"

"Hi, Courf," Jehan sighed. His voice was warm. Courfeyrac wanted to melt into him. "Are you feeling better?"

"Right as rain," Courfeyrac replied way too cheerily, then hit Combeferre on the leg when he started chuckling.

"Oh good." Courfeyrac wondered if he was imagining the smile he heard in Jehan's voice. "I was wondering if you wanted to come over tonight?" Jehan asked, sounding a little nervous now.

"Oh, not tonight," Courfeyrac choked, ignoring the glance Combeferre was shooting him. "I'm actually at Combeferre's right now. He's helping me catch up on all the work I missed while you were so beautifully nursing me back to health."

“Oh,” Jehan said lightly, but Courfeyrac thought he heard a hint of disappointment in his tone. He ached to reach through the phone and ease it, but he couldn’t go over tonight  _he wasn’t ready_. “All right,” Jehan continued, sounding a bit deflated. “Tomorrow, maybe?”

“Absolutely!” Courfeyrac cried. He couldn’t bear to disappoint him again. He’d just have to be ready with his gesture by tomorrow. “I’ll pick you up! See you then!” He knew he sounded way too cheery, and then he hung up the phone.

Combeferre was making a very valiant effort to pass his laughter off as an intense need to scratch his nose but he was fooling no one and Courfeyrac smacked his leg again.

“I’m  _trying_ , okay?” he groaned and then threw himself backward back onto the floor, covering his face with his hands.

Combeferre snickered some more and looked down at Courfeyrac. “All right,” he said, adopting his business voice, which made Courfeyrac glance up at him through his fingers. “Let’s figure this out.”

\--

They spent the next two and three quarter hours plotting and planning and drinking cocoa and flailing around on the floor (on Courfeyrac’s part), and by the time Courfeyrac left, he had a grand gesture that was almost good enough for someone as wonderful as Jehan.

Almost.

So Courfeyrac really ought to have gone home and slept and gotten ready to make his move to win his love.

How he ended up knocking on Jehan’s door at 3am was really beyond him.

“Courf?” Jehan mumbled as he opened the door, sleepily rubbing at one eye. “I thought you weren’t coming over tonight?”

“I had a whole thing planned,” Courfeyrac blurted out and Jehan blinked up at him in confusion. “I was going to take you out and make a huge deal out of it, and ‘Ferre and I just spent hours working out a plan for a gesture grand enough, but it still wasn’t good enough for you.”

Jehan looked like he was trying to figure out what the hell was going on but his mind was racing and his body was sleepy and something very big was happening here. “Courf, I don’t --” he managed to get out before Courfeyrac took half a step forward and lightly brushed Jehan’s jaw with his fingers and Jehan’s heart leapt into his throat, stopping anything else he might have said.

“I had a whole speech planned,” Courfeyrac laughed softly. “And it was all right, but it still wasn’t good enough. And then I was on my way home, and I just couldn’t stop thinking about how you’ve spent every day for the past week holding me because I felt bad, and making me soup and making sure I drank enough water and had enough blankets, and then I couldn’t stop thinking about how. . .soft your wrist was when I kissed it.” He slowed down and gazed at Jehan, who was bright pink now, and staring at him with wide eyes, his breathing shallow. “And how beautiful you look in the moonlight,” Courfeyrac continued, his voice dying down to a whisper. His fingers were still light on Jehan’s face and he was starting to wonder if Jehan was breathing at all. “I just wanted to see you,” he breathed. “And I guess this is the grandest gesture I can make, because I can’t hold this in anymore and I have to tell you.”

Jehan bit his lip, a light of hope igniting in his eyes.

Courfeyrac looked at him in wonder and said it: “I love you. I am so deeply,  _absurdly_  in love with you. And I know I’m not supposed to tell you that until we’ve been dating for however long and I am so sorry if it scares you or freaks you out, but you are always the one I come to when I have something to say, and you are always the one I want to talk to about everything, and you are my friend and my love and you’re becoming my entire world and I love you. I wake up and I think about you, and I count the minutes until I get to see you, and I’m with you and all I want to do is touch you and kiss you, and I love you. I love you. And if you don’t love me, that’s --”

“Courfeyrac,” Jehan cut through, his voice thick, stopping any sense of  _if you don’t_. Fear crossed Courfeyrac’s face then, like he suddenly realized he was standing empty-handed in Jehan’s doorway at 3am, touching his face and  _what if he says no?_

But Jehan was smiling. He was leaning slightly into Courfeyrac’s fingers on his face. He was reaching up himself to touch the hollow at the base of Courfeyrac’s throat.

“I love you, too,” he whispered.

Courfeyrac didn’t have time to think about how those words were like dawn breaking into his world. He didn’t have time to wonder at the cadence with which his love loved him, too. He didn’t have any time at all because suddenly Jehan’s arms were around his neck and Jehan’s fingers were in his hair and Jehan’s lips were on his lips.

He barely had time to register that they were still standing in a doorway at 3am, barely had time to wrap his own arms around Jehan’s body and pull him closer still. Everything that he thought and felt and breathed was Jehan.

Jehan was  _kissing him._

_Finally._

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt from the lovely mybelovedcheshire


End file.
